All it takes is a yes
by in-Pursuit-Of-Magic-97
Summary: After a year of no communication with her former best friend, Hermione is now getting married to a half-blood wizard. Their families have booked a special co-magical resort for the wedding, the preparations have begun in full swing and the guests have started to arrive and then Hermione finds out that the resort belongs to none other than Harry Potter. HEA.EWE.Fluff! Smut! Harmony!


**All it takes is a yes.**

'I just talked to the owner. We do have thirty-one rooms available,' Mr. Mehra announced, his face a picture of excitement. The two women sitting on the sofa squealed in joy that belied their age. Their husbands, who sat on the opposite ends of the same sofa also smiled widely, first looking at each other and then glancing at their happily embracing wives.

'Thank you so much, Sudeep. Hermione will be thrilled, and as you can see, her mother already is,' the fifty something man with bountiful streaks of greying hair said as he stood up to shake the manager's hand.

'No problem Dr. Granger. We are happy to be of service. As of now, there's only one room whose roof needs a bit of repair, but you don't need to worry about that. It will be fixed by sundown. Your guests can start moving in today.'

'Great!' Said the other man, also grinning happily at the prospect of giving the news to their children.

As soon as the manager was done informing them that the first deposit of fifteen thousand galleons will be needed in an hour, he was gone.

'Go on Ned, tell the kids!' Encouraged Helen Granger as her husband came to sit on the arm of the sofa.

'I have already messaged them both.' Ned replied, giving his wife a congratulatory kiss.

'Clive had absolutely loved this resort. He was so excited to tell Hermione about it when we weren't even sure that it would be available. We are so lucky,' Elena Williams gushed to which Ned and Helen wholeheartedly agreed.

'Indeed we are,' said her husband who had just came back from signing the required documents to confirm their booking.

_It was ten in the morning, with fifty hours to go._

* * *

'Come on Hermione, let's see that dress!' Ashley called out as she paced on the glistening floor of the boutique, her voice a bit stern to have the desired effect of bringing her best friend out of her temporary hiding.

'No. I look ridiculous.' came a distressed voice from inside the changing room, to which Ashley groaned.

'You look beautiful.' she called out again.

'How can you say that? You haven't even seen me.'

'I will see you if you would just come out, Hermione.' deadpanned Ashley who was now ready to go inside and drag her out. There was no reply for a full minute after which she called again with a touch of impatience, 'Hermione?'

'Yes! Okay, okay. I'm coming.'

Rolling her eyes for the umpteenth time, Ashley waited until the front of the gown appeared and then slowly her best friend fully came into view.

'How the fuck can you call this ridiculous?! This is amazing! The perfect dress!'

This time it was Hermione's turn to roll her eyes, 'Don't be stupid. I'm not wearing this. This is too much and too heavy and certainly not for me.' Ashley sighed upon hearing that, knowing that she would have to be extra persuasive for her stubborn friend. It wasn't the first time though, Hermione could be very difficult if she set her mind on doing something, or as of now, set her mind on not doing something. One of the perks of being a friend to the brightest witch ever.

'Let's put it aside for a final review then, alright? Along with the others.'

'Okay.'

Hermione promptly went back inside to get out of the offending dress, coming back out in less than five minutes. Gently taking the dress from her, Ashley put it in the pile with the others and gave Hermione a hug.

'You'll look good in all of them, Hermione. So whatever you choose, it won't be a problem.' Hermione grinned and hugged her back, making her friend choke on her next sentence.

'What did I ever do to have a friend like you Ash? '

'Well, you were a good friend to my husband. I think that counts for something.' Ashley said mock seriously, to which both witches dissolved into giggles.

'I think I'll wear the blue one.' Hermione said, going over to stand in front of the full length mirror, and that is when her eyes fell on the price tag.

Ashley saw where she was looking and immediately said, 'Don't see that, Hermione. You know you can have anything from here.'

'But this is too much! Fifteen hundred galleons! I am not buying anything this expensive.' Hermione said, her voice aghast, her hair moving wildly around her shoulders, almost crackling with suppressed magic and mirroring her mood.

Ashley simply produced her wand from inside her robe and sent her patronus running outside the door. Hermione threw her a look of confusion, in response to which, she sighed dramatically.

A half-minute later, Neville Longbottom entered through the same door, his wand in hand and his face alert. Seeing the two witches standing, he immediately rushed over to them and hugged his wife first and then Hermione.

'What's the emergency?' he asked, to which Ashley shook her head a little and pointed out her friend, 'She's being ridiculous.'

'I am not!'

'Yes you are.'

'I am n-'

'She's refusing to wear the dress on account of expense.'

Neville laughed and Hermione threw him a dirty look. 'You know you can have anything from here, Hermione.'

'Yes. but not one of those special designer ones that are clearly too expensive.'

'But this is your boutique too!' protested Ashley, to which Neville added, 'and you are the second richest person in the country, Hermione.'

'It's not and I am not, Clive is and-'

'You are marrying him so you will easily be able to afford this dress if I ever went mental and decided to ask you to pay for it.' Ashley supplied.

Hermione opened and closed her mouth a few times and then crossed her arms across her chest and scowled at both of them. Neville and Ashley threw each other amused glances and shook their heads at their friend's antics who was clearly one breath away from stomping her foot in frustration.

'I wish Harry was here, he was the only one who could coax her out of her stubbornness.' Neville reminisced suddenly, his voice carrying the mirth that his eyes lacked. But unknown to him, it had the desired effect of deflating his friend.

Hermione turned on her heel and walked away, standing in front of the mirror once again. Looking at her reflection, she tried to block the images that were now dancing inside her head. It was in vain, though. The intensity with which they flashed across her eyes was too palpable, the weight of her past too clear to obscure it with her present. And just like that, she felt her eyes water.

Fuck. She couldn't even look at her own reflection without thinking about -

'Your mum told me to tell you that we got Wilderlust.'

Hermione snorted and rolled her eyes at Ashley's terrible attempt at distracting her. But she had to admit, the excitement with which she said it, did make her smile. She was also pleased to see that Neville's face lit up when she turned and smiled. It wasn't supposed to be like that, they were all mature and adults. She shouldn't have this reaction to a tiny thing, and Neville should not have to watch what he said in her presence so much. She felt a little guilty and apologized to him. Neville simply laughed it off. He was so great like that.

As they began discussing her wedding and the resort again, Hermione's mind fought to register to every single thing that her friends were saying. A part of her wanted to join them in their jubilation, converse with them, match their happiness with her own enthusiasm. But it was an effort that couldn't be made, when a larger part of her did not want it at all.

So all she did was smile and nod and shake her head and hum in agreement to everything they said and reply monosyllabically to everything they asked of her, even when her cheeks hurt with the smile she fought to keep, and her chest hurt with the effort it took to realise that she was happy.

_It was three in the afternoon, with forty-five hours to go._

* * *

'So it works like this, as far as I have understood,' Neville was saying, his voice taking on an academic tone, 'The charm is a memoization technique, used to preserve the date in the form of a memory, which is the first time the recipient of the message viewed it. Collectively, the memory along with the invitation message is called a Relish. It is automatically saved in the recipient's calendar, and to hear the invite at a later time, all they need to do is point their wand at their calendar and think of that memory and the invitation will be played out for them again. Correct, Hermione?'

Neville, Ashley, Hermione and her parents and Clive's parents were all seated in the big, polished living room of one of the cottages in the Wilderlust resort, discussing the magical equivalent of wedding cards invented by _The Harmony Innovations Private Limited_. Ashley was seated on the sofa while her husband sat on the floor, leaning against her legs. The respective parents were seated on the opposite pair of sofa and a big muggle TV adorned the wall angled at ninety degrees for all of their viewing convenience.

Hermione grinned and nodded to which Neville gave a yay as if he'd won a medal. Ashley came holding out a parchment, 'And don't forget about the calendars. They need to be the Otter Magick Calendars, or else the charm wouldn't work.'

'Ash, every magical household nowadays has the Otter Calendars.' reminded Neville, to which she simply rolled her eyes but added, 'Yes, and the ones belonging to the few snotty purebloods that don't have one are not getting the invitation. But anyway, we did mention the fact so people aren't confused.'

The audience to which Neville had been explaining one of the most exquisite inventions of the company all gave different levels of cheer at understanding the Invite charm.

'So how will the non-magicals see it?' Mrs Williams asked for the sake of Hermione's parents.

'The charm-' Neville began.

'And the calendar,' Ashley supplied.

'-and the calendar totally work on the magic of the maker of the invitation, who in this case is Hermione, so you only need to touch the specific date on the calendar with your hand and all your tasks, meetings, and messages can replay for you.'

Helen Granger wore an awestruck expression on her face as she remarked, 'This is really impressive. It feels just like a video.'

Neville, who was now well-versed in muggle technologies thanks to his muggleborn wife, replied without thinking, 'Yes it is. Harry came up with the idea actually. And then our Hermione went on to implement it.'

Hermione flushed as all their eyes came to rest on her just as Ashley announced, 'And she finished it in less than a bloody week!' Elbowing her friend, Hermione threw her a grateful look. But her respite was short-lived as Mr. Williams asked, 'Harry, as in Harry Potter?'

The way he'd asked indicated only one thing, that he had also been a fan of the Boy-Who-Lived. For fuck's sake, he was two decades older than him. Neville barely restrained from rolling his eyes as he replied with a yes.

'Is he still your friend Hermione? You haven't talked about him in months.' Helen asked.

'Of course he is mum.' Hermione averted her eyes and replied quickly, too quickly in fact.

'Is he coming to the wedding?' Elena inquired.

Hermione got up and went to a fancy looking polished wooden cabinet and touched the glass with her left hand. Immediately, a bottle of water appeared in her palm of which she broke the seal and gulped down in one breath. And then her eyes caught the inscription of the company that had made it and she let out a sigh. It had been another one of their innovations.

Meanwhile Ashley had gone to retrieve a bunch of paperwork that had been delivered at the door. When she came back, Hermione noticed that she looked paler. As soon as she took her seat after giving away the parchments to Mr. Williams, Hermione took her aside.

'What happened?'

Ashley was hesitant to answer and was almost tempted to say 'nothing' when Hermione put on her stern expression which gave her no choice but to spill.

'The parchments that I brought to Clive's dad, they had Harry Potter's signature.'

'Why would it have his signature?' Hermione asked, hoping earnestly that it wasn't what she feared.

Ashley looked down as she said quietly, her voice taking an apologetic tone, 'Because he is the majority owner of this resort.'

Hermione couldn't believe her ears. Swarmed by emotions, she held a hand towards the wall and leaned on it a little, as if tipsy from their effect. It was too much for her to take, and quickly becoming too overwhelming for her to successfully go on with it all.

There are currently only three co-muggle resorts in Britain, and she couldn't comprehend why this was the one she'd liked the most. But oh yes, she did know why. Those curved, long paths you could spend walking for eternity, those cute cottages, the greenery and wilderness nearby with the amazing countryside to explore, this resort had it all. Both their parents had sent her pictures to see and she'd been impressed by its beauty so much that she'd readily agreed, also considering how happy it would make her and Clive's parents. But now it seemed she'd gone and trapped herself in something that she'll have no choice but to face head on.

Hermione closed her eyes tightly as she tried not to hyperventilate. It would do no good at all to even think about backing out. The deal was done, the guests were almost here, and her parents were happy. None of them could be reversed, nor did she really want to. And she was particularly fearful of doing something wrong and upsetting her soon to in-laws.

'Fuck it.' she said as she exhaled a long throaty breath and tried to accept it all.

'Fuck what?' asked a voice that had the immediate effect of making her open her eyes and stifle a gasp in surprise to see Clive standing there, holding two cups of steaming hot coffee. Mirth danced around in his eyes as he stood there staring at her, silently asking what had her standing alone, away from the room full of people who were clearly wondering where she had gone.

'Nothing,' Hermione began to say, now looking at Ashley too, who had retreated a step back and stood looking at the floor still, her face depicting the guilt she was feeling, 'We were just discussing how great the cottages were.' Hermione was surprised at how easily the lie came to her, her mind attributing it to the fact that it was her natural reaction to a friend in trouble.

'They are so adorable, right? I loved the pictures mum sent us, but seeing it for real with my own eyes is an entirely different experience. I have to give it to Harry, he has some really good taste. Remind me to ask him to give me some pointers to decorate our own house after the wedding.' Clive spoke softly, glancing at the TV that was showing those said cottages and how beautiful they looked during nighttime.

Hermione had only one thing on her mind right now, stopping her friend from blaming herself. But hearing his name had the effect of dissipating all her thoughts, 'How do you know him?'

Clive looked at her again as she asked, surprise adorning his face as he replied, 'You mean Harry? I just met him once, when mum dragged me to visit the resort. The manager had just started showing us around when Harry came and took it from him and I have to say, the way he described everything was incredible. He just won her heart with his tales about everything. That was when mum said that she had made up her mind to have the wedding here. I never thought that a man as famous as him would be so down to earth.'

'He didn't ask to be famous you know. His parents were murdered in cold blood, I think that is a very steep price to pay for all the nonsense of the Boy-Who-Lived.' Hermione replied harshly, perhaps too harshly in a long ingrained reflex to defend her childhood friend. Clive was so taken aback by her outburst and his face took on a contrite expression.

'I didn't mean it like that. I'm sorry.' he said immediately, and Hermione felt horrible. Why did she have to defend him like that? It was so unfair to Clive, who she knew had really hadn't meant to be cruel. She knew how he meant it, what he was feeling when he was describing the resort, and yet she had gone and scolded him out of pure habit of not being able to tolerate any intended or unintended slight against him. Why the fuck was it so hard for her to have a normal day without upsetting anyone in her vicinity?

Clive was so sweet and kind and he really didn't deserve any of it, and certainly not the brunt of her misplaced anger and frustration. Hermione swore to make it up to him later.

'No, I am sorry. Clive, but could you please wait for me inside? I really need to talk to Ashley about something.'

'Sure.' he said, leaning down to give her a kiss which she happily returned. When they broke apart, she had a smile that her soon to be husband mirrored. 'I'll wait for you, love.'

Hermione simply nodded in return as she began to look around for her best friend. A full ten minutes later, after she'd led the now smiling Ashley to her suite to rest, she hurried back.

Clive was chatting happily with Neville when she returned. She couldn't focus on what he was saying, but from his mannerisms she could gather that he was now explaining another one of those charms she'd invented. Hermione sat beside him just as he'd high-fived with Neville on successfully performing the new spell.

'You see now love, I'm not that incompetent.' he said teasingly, to which Hermione smirked.

'Of course not, Clive. I wouldn't dare marry a pea-brain.' she said in return to which he grinned.

'What do you think is the best place to hold the photoshoot?'

Despite her thoughts being all over the place, her mind came to a halt as she heard that. 'Sorry, what photoshoot?'

Elena's eyes caught hers as she explained, 'The pre-wedding photoshoot in the Rose gardens,' and then Helen continued, as if on the same page, 'which I've heard rumors that say that Harry designed it himself.'

'Oh he did, actually. Didn't he tell us, son?' Elena asked, to which Clive replied with an affirmative.

Hermione didn't know what to think as she mentally fought with herself not to speak with vehemence in her voice. 'But why? What's the need? There will already be plenty of pictures of the wedding itself, is it really necessary to do this?

Her voice was controlled to an extent that she didn't really recognise it herself. But then Elena asked confusedly, 'I thought you had seen all the events planned, Hermione? I mean, it is in the invitation and all our guests are invited as well, it being right after brunch, that is.'

She _had_ seen the list of planned events, yes, but had she really read it? Hermione tried not to groan out loud.

'Besides, all of Britain will be seeing the photos and every newspaper has even booked a time slot with the management here. After all you are Hermione Granger, The Girl-Who-' Mr. Williams informed her.

Hermione had stopped listening after he began to sprout that ridiculous name. She really didn't want to pick a fight with Clive's parents. She really didn't. She really needed to get on board with this. With all of this. And it wouldn't happen if she fought over everything or micro-analysed everything that came out of both sets of parent's mouths. Although, a part of her still hoped that her parents should've known better, especially her mother. After all, she knew how much Hermione hated all this nonsensical hyphenation of her name like a deity to a worshipped like...like him.

But then she looked at Clive, who had been watching her silently all this time, and she felt horrible again. She didn't know why she was behaving like this. This moody, psychotic bitch who was looking for arguments and fights everywhere.

'I'm sorry, I did read it. I'd forgotten.' And just like that, these simple words brought a smile to his face again, making her mentally curse herself. Clive was a good man, and he deserved so much better than being subjected to her irrational mood swings.

Trying to soothe her feelings of lingering distress over nothing in general (as far as she could tell), Hermione kissed her fiance on the cheek and got up to go to the restroom.

Looking at her reflection in the mirror above the washbasin, Hermione smiled. Her right hand came up to fiddle with the large diamond situated on her left, and her eyes stared at the sparkle it caused in the mirror, comprising of so many different colours. She needed that sparkle in her eyes. She needed it so much.

'I'm happy.' she said to the person in the mirror, who was also smiling widely at her now. She was looking at this amazing, happy woman, her virtual self, who had the best of everything and yet she stood there, needing to have the assurance from her to make it feel real.

'I'm happy.' she said again, this time her head nodding at herself in the mirror. Her hands moved through her hair framing her face and her thumbs wiped at the invisible tears that may have formed in the corner of her eyes. Grinning widely at herself, Hermione chuckled, and then iterated it again, this time with conviction.

'I'm happy.'

_It was eight in the evening, with forty hours to go._

* * *

Twenty-five out of thirty-one families had already arrived, which included all the muggle relatives to whom Hermione had disclosed the magical world. Three of the remaining were some high-status purebloods distantly related to Clive, and the ones who had the license to be fashionably late. Though Hermione called such vain and snotty people 'moronically late' within the confines of her mind. She just couldn't understand the point of their tardiness when they could just literally apparate from their homes to the apparating station of the resort in the blink of an eye. Even her distant French aunt and uncles from her mother's side had come early, just in time for brunch this morning. And due to their lateness, their rooms had been uninhabited for one whole day and those things cost a fortune for both parents. If they were going to be late, why couldn't they just specify as to what time would they actually care to get their lazy arses off from their beds and hold their wives arms long enough to apparate?

Those were her thoughts as Hermione stuck yet another plastic smile on her face while posing for yet another photo with her fiance. Her cheeks hurt from smiling those smiles, her head hurt from cursing every single person who had thought of conducting this nonsense and her blood boiled every bloody time the photographer would tell her lift her chin a little or smile a little wider or hold her fiance a little tighter. Can't the little sycophant from the newspaper see that she was tired? She didn't know how he didn't get tired, kissing everyone's arses for two bloody hours straight and for what? Picture after picture of fake smiles and fake demonstrations of love and closeness and whatnot?

She could do so many better things with her time. And then when the photographer's assistant presented a two-seater broomstick - another one of their company's inventions - for her to sit on with Clive and pose for yet another picture, she knew she'd had enough.

'No, I'm not doing it.' she announced to everyone who lingered in the vicinity with finality and fierceness in her voice that they weren't going to get the bloody show they'd been waiting for.

And before Clive or anyone else could begin to argue with her, a large zooming noise from far broke her free of her thoughts.

She looked up just in time to see a helicopter descend to the ground just beside the garden. Owing to the wonder of magic, only the noise reached them and not the wind and the dust that usually swept the surroundings with a regular helicopter. Why apparate when you could travel flashy through a co-magical transport?

The noise that stopped her furious thoughts didn't affect her at all. The way all conversation around her seemed to have paused didn't affect her at all. Hermione saw how everyone's eyes seemed to follow in the direction of the muggle-magical device of transport and be glued to it with bated breath and it didn't affect her at all. She didn't even care how the bloody photographer had stopped nagging her, and was now running towards the copter with all other journalists in tow.

But her heart stopped when her eyes took in the person that exited the helicopter.

He was wearing sunglasses, but the intensity of his emerald eyes shone in her mind's eye. His hair was tousled as ever, its appearance rampaging through her chest, destroying any and all rationality from within. He was wearing an easy smile, his public mask firmly in place and recognising him coming towards her direction caused a near physical pain in her chest. Her eyes were tearing up, her heart breaking all over again and her year long resolve was shattering like cheap glass at the mere sight of him.

_Oh, Harry._

There, she'd said it, and now she was in pieces.

_It was two in the afternoon, with twenty-two hours to go._

* * *

He'd spent ten whole minutes talking to both their parents. Ten bloody minutes. He'd hugged her mother and kissed her on the cheek as a greeting. He'd surreptitiously influenced every journalist in the area with his magic and now they were nowhere to be seen. He'd laughed and smiled and spoke with such enthusiasm that it had her reeling.

Hermione looked at her parents still talking quite animatedly with Harry and knew it was inevitable she would have to at some point as well. Before, she would have resisted and said she would never do it, but now he was here, in front of her eyes and she already felt that pull to go over and see him again.

She didn't know when she'd stopped watching him from a distance with her parents and relatives as her legs had worked on their own accord and began to take her away from the gardens. She walked at a brisk pace, and while she still didn't know where she was going, she'd failed to see that Clive had begun following her and almost caught up to her when she was around the lounge near the reception, with his giant strides.

'Hermione!' he called, his voice urgent and a bit strained. She turned around then, her face barely masking her anger.

'What?' she said, while meaning, 'What the fuck do you want now?'

'Where are you going? We were just about to meet with Harry. Mum and Dad are waiting for us there.'

'I don't need to meet with anyone.'

'I'm saying you do.'

Hermione's eyes glinted an angry shade of black and brown as she spat, 'Did you just try to order me?' Her right hand had been strangely itching to hold her wand and curse someone, and now that her fiance was here, a part of her was desperately wishing that he continued harassing her with this line of conversation and she wouldn't feel the tiniest bit of remorse for cursing his balls off.

Unfortunately or fortunately, Clive deflated visibly, his hand moving to the back of his head and his voice taking on his usual apologetic tone.

'I'm sorry, I just meant to ask you where you were going in such a hurry.'

'Nowhere.' she said, the lava in her chest settling down a bit at his quiet voice. 'I'm just tired.'

Leaning against the tall counter, Hermione eyed the pink, very comfortable looking couch just a few feet away from her. It was enticing, making her fantasize just curling up on it with a book and reading till her eyes drooped from the exhaustion of the day. She saw Clive looking at her warily, as if expecting her to snap at him again, and found herself speaking, 'You go ahead. I'll come in a bit.'

'Okay.' her fiance said as he moved to go towards the door and pulled at the handle. And then instead of going out, he came back inside and someone else entered through.

Hermione felt herself stop breathing as she took in the sight of Harry Potter entering the room and shaking hands with her soon to be husband. Her mind went blank, as if in too much shock to form distinct thoughts and suddenly, the temperature in the lounge seemed to have dropped a few degrees making her flush. It was instantaneous, this effect he had on her, by simply being in her vicinity.

And the worst part was, a part of her revelled in this feeling.

She saw that he had removed his sunglasses, and now the green in his eyes made her feel red hot all over. Her cheeks and the tip of her nose were already crimson, as if welcoming their instigator with open arms.

'I wanted to personally welcome you to Wilderlust,' he was saying, his voice breathy and soft, just the way she remembered, 'I hope everything is to your liking?'

Clive grinned, 'This is a very beautiful resort you've built, Harry.'

'Oh I haven't built it, really, only lent a hand in designing it. That too very little.' he replied, ever so modest, just like she knew him to be.

Just then the door opened and Ashley called out, 'Clive, could you come here for a moment? Your mum needs you.'

Hermione saw it all happen in slow motion. Clive responding to Ashley that he will be right there. His parting kiss on her right cheek to which Harry discreetly averted his eyes, his steps taking him away leaving her in a room alone with the man whose presence felt like a living, breathing thing inside her.

Her eyes found his again, and this time, it couldn't go anywhere else because he had silently held on to them.

Congratulations, you're getting married.' he said it as a statement, his smile trying its best to proclaim how happy he was at the occasion. His face was as flushed as her now, his growing stubble of black and occasional grey hair a stark but entrancing contrast to his pale skin. He was wearing short hair which was still untameable as ever, and his naked eyes bore into hers, having abandoned his glasses years back upon her instruction. She'd said he'll look so much better this way. And he did, he so did as he stood in front of her, with his mirthless eyes.

His body language told her the truth. His hands were clasped in front of his stomach, his shoulders relaxed. He was standing with his feet comfortably apart, and his entire demeanour screamed playfulness and delightedness. For the public, for her family, for Clive's family, all the world around him and to everyone else, he looked like someone who was ready to join in the celebration. But not to her. Even after a year of separation, her eyes were still trained to see what he didn't want anyone to see, her body was still accustomed to feel what he was feeling and her heart still wanted to do something, anything to make it all better, because his eyes had instantaneously told her the real story.

They were sad. They were drowning in grief and Hermione felt a sharp bout of pain in her chest realising that she had been the one to cause it. The sudden pain was enough to make her flinch, and her eyes to begin tearing up.

She'd already forgotten that he'd said something, and when he spoke again, it felt like he was going to leave. She didn't want him to leave. Not now. Not when he'd just come back.

'I hope you like our hospitality.' he didn't say her name. Those words felt so empty, neutral and devoid of life that she fought to open her mouth and say something, only for nothing to come out.

Harry smiled once more at her, and then backed away a step and turned to go. Hermione felt her mouth work on its own accord, 'Harry?'

He paused, and then turned sideways to face her once again. His face was a carefully constructed, ultra armour protected, super protego layered mask of neutrality that felt so out of place with the default smile that he had in place. How she wished he would lose that smile and show her the real him. She knew she deserved it.

'Yes, ma'am?'

Oh, that hurt. That hurt a lot. This time, she couldn't stop the tears from breaking free from the prison of her eyes and flow down her cheeks. That endless stream of pain personified evoked a sob from within her which made her shudder from head to toe. And then Harry spoke again.

'If there's nothing else, ma'am?'

And then he left.

_It was almost three in the afternoon, with twenty-one hours to go._

* * *

'Hermione, love are you alright?'

She had eventually forced herself to calm down. She'd told herself to get a grip, because she needed to, in order to achieve her future, the happily-ever-after that was due in less than a day.

Hermione sighed again as she heard those words, it being the fifth time Clive had asked after they'd retreated back to the confines of her room. She'd told everyone that she was too tired to return and fled from the gardens before anyone could object. But Clive had again followed her. She knew he was only here to check on her, but she just couldn't silence a part of her that told her that he was being intrusive. Otherwise why the bloody hell would he ask if she was okay whenever she groaned at something or scowled even a little?

Clive came to sit beside her on the bed when she didn't reply. She had drawn the duvet upto her chin and had both her hands under it, which she kept saying to herself that she hadn't kept it that way so that Clive couldn't hold them.

But lying on her side, she was unfortunately facing him. 'Are you going to tell me what happened back there that had you almost in tears?'

She didn't try to correct him. It didn't matter, she told herself, because there was only one man who knew how weak she'd been in that moment, and it wasn't her fiance.

'What happened with Harry?' Just hearing his name stirred something within her.

'Nothing, we were just reminiscing about the old times.'

'And it made you cry?' he asked dubiously.

'Those were happy tears, honestly.'

Clive sighed as he looked out the window, his hands in his lap. 'You didn't look happy to me, Hermione.'

Hermione tried not to groan out loud. It was becoming a habit now.

'We've been best friends for years, Clive. It was just some memories that were good, some that weren't so good and we ended up discussing them. That's it.'

'Okay.' Hermione suppressed a sigh of relief at that. He remained silent for a few minutes during which she pondered if he was thinking about going. Honestly, she would prefer it very much, for a while at least.

'Tell me one.'

Hermione looked at him in confusion, 'Tell you what?'

'Tell me a memory of your choice. Something that when you think about, still makes you happy.'

Hermione looked at him as if he'd left his brain at those bloody gardens. She remained silent and stared at him incredulously, but unfortunately for her, he stared right back at her and remained firm in his request. Or was it a demand?

'Okay.' she sighed, too tired to argue and tried to think of something. And almost immediately, she had one. She tried to suppress her grin but failed when she thought about it. Clive saw it but didn't say anything.

'So, Harry and I, we were on the verge of launching our company. One night, we were working on one of our projects,' Hermione looked at Clive as she asked, 'Did you know that the wizarding world still used those mundane warming charms for their nursery? The charms which always wear out in a few hours and need to be reapplied. The richer families had households to keep the baby warm through the night but for the others? The wives were expected to reapply the charms and keep track of when they'll wear out. They were even expected to stay awake the whole night for that.'

Clive nodded and she continued, 'So Harry had this brilliant idea of imbibing some strong warming charms into the wall paint of the nursery, with the help of runes.'

His eyebrows rose at that, but Hermione paid it no mind, 'Yes, I was a bit sceptical too, but Harry convinced me. He said that we will be making them weather sensitive to allow just the right amount of heat into the nursery to make the infant comfortable.'

Hermione continued, 'We ended up inventing it and after days of research and experiments, we had just one problem left. The warming charm wasn't - the one we use regularly - wasn't strong enough when cast by a normal witch or wizard to last more than a few days at best. We need something stronger to power the runes for a whole year after only one application. We experimented with incendios of all powers but it all ended up stretching only a few weeks at best. Harry and I are pretty powerful in that respect so for experimenting, when we asked for a third person to try the charm, we saw that it powered the rune even less than that.'

'And then Harry came up to me and said that he wanted to do a fiendfyre on the rune.'

Clive chuckled as he rolled his eyes and said, 'As if that's possible.'

Hermione felt herself grow a bit irritated at his admission but continued anyway, her voice turning a bit sharper, 'Anyway, I asked him to try it. Because if anyone in the world could successfully do it, I knew it would be him,' she said with pride in her voice, 'So he tried, and failed, obviously, for a few times. But on the third night, he was able to contain his fiendfyre in the size of those small bluebell flames that I used to make. I was so ecstatic. We were awake for the whole night, just celebrating. We drank, we ate, we danced even. It was just, oh so good.'

Hermione stopped talking as her thoughts remained glued to that magical night. She was smiling widely now, her heart beating wildly in her chest at the memory. When she remained silent for a while, Clive cleared his throat, and Hermione continued again, 'When Harry did it for the second time, I figured out the way to make it self-containing within the paint rune. So yes, we were able to make our charm work and eventually made it viable to be marketed.'

Hermione closed her eyes as she finished her tale, her smile never leaving. Her arm curled around her waist, as if trying to replicate how he'd held her that night. Even remembering it felt magical, and she knew, every one of those moments when they'd invented something together was equally so.

'I could do it too, you know.'

Hermione opened her eyes to see her fiance sitting up straighter, a smugness in his demeanor as he looked at her. 'What?'

'Fiendfyre. I could do it too.' He said, a strange glint in his eye.

Hermione chuckled despite herself. 'No, you can't. None of us can, actually. It's a Harry thing.' she said gently, not wanting to offend him.

Clive's face hardened, 'Oh yeah? Let me show you then.' he said getting up from the bed.

Hermione sat up suddenly, her expression calm but strained. 'Don't be stupid, Clive.'

But he didn't listen. Clive produced his wand and Hermione scrambled on the bed, trying not to panic, 'Clive! It's not a cock measuring contest, for heaven's sake. Stop it! It's dangerous!'

But by then, he'd already muttered the spell.

The next few moments felt like a nightmare. It started slow at first. The flame was small and it only danced around his wand, beginning to show that it wouldn't be controlled so easily. Then, it had advanced to his arm's length, and suddenly the nearby coffee table had been consumed. And then despite Clive's wand waving, it spread like inferno.

The desk was next, and then the window. The curtains had already gone, and the flames licked the walls hungrily, now just shy of reaching the bed as Hermione had feared.

Clive had taken cover behind an iron statue near the hearth but Hermione remained still on the bed, her eyes mirroring the flames while her body struggled to let go of the shock.

She saw each moment of her life in those hungry, dancing flames. She was once like them, wild, carefree and uncontrollable. Her mind replayed every moment that had led her to this day, and fixated on the person that was always in the centre of it all. Her crush on Harry in the third year, all their adventures in the following, how each time she'd thought of confessing how she felt for him, and how every time she was denied the opportunity. How they'd both pined after the wrong people in their sixth year. How courageous she'd felt in that tent once upon a time, ready to tell him and had then saw him looking at her footsteps in the marauder's map.

How they'd grown closer after the defeat of Voldemort, and how elated they'd both felt when they'd started their company. That elation, that sense of contentment, oh, it had been simply out of the world. Then one day, she'd been hurt by her unfortunate choice of partner and Harry had been her guiding light, helping her move on. He had made her feel alive again, being there for her every second of every day. And then that day, they'd kissed in the middle of the night and they'd made love and slept in each other's arms. And then she'd agreed to go out with him, and it had been the beginning of the end.

She'd tried, she'd really tried to give it her all. Their relationship hadn't been complicated, but her doubts and sense of uncertainty about her readiness her made it hell. And then one day she'd done the most horrible thing she'd ever done in her life, the biggest mistake of her life. She'd rejected him.

And now, as Hermione saw those flames coming towards her, she felt herself closing her eyes.

Maybe she deserved this. Maybe it was time to let it go. Give up.

Maybe this was it.

And suddenly, she was flying, her body enclosed in those strong, steady arms that meant everything to her. Those arms whose touch was enough to make her feel okay, despite everything. She'd felt herself automatically lean into it and open her eyes.

'Hermione! Please! Say something to me!'

Harry's eyes were frantic, wild and utterly inconsolable as he tried to get a response from her. And Hermione couldn't take it any longer.

'I'm alright, Harry.' her voice was raspy, but it had the desired effect of making Harry breath a mighty sigh of relief.

Hermione noticed that they were flying. Or to be correct, Harry was flying while he held her in his arms, tighter than a hug of her own kind. He'd learned unsupported flying just after they had gotten together for the first time. She'd once said said to him that she was fearful of flying on a broomstick, but he could take her flying in his arms anytime. And that was his motivation behind accomplishing what not even Dumbledore or Merlin had achieved.

It seemed like ages when they started to descend and Harry made Hermione sit. She looked around to see that she was sitting in a warm stone carved chair in a place she'd never been before. 'Where are we?'

Harry was kneeling in front of as he said, 'A place where you wouldn't think of giving up.' he said getting just as Neville's breathless voice rang in her ears.

'You need to go, Harry. Their cottage is already up in flames. I'll be here, with her.' With one more glance at her, Harry left to control the raging fiendfyre.

Hermione felt as if she was in a trance. This was quickly becoming like a dream. 'Do you think Harry will come back, Nev?' she asked, a frown on her face and hesitancy in her voice.

Neville looked at her curiously, 'Of course. Why wouldn't he?'

Hermione shrugged, her heart still thumping wildly in her chest. It had become a habit of sorts, she would do something and he will leave. But she kept quiet. It was all too much. She was thinking about him before the fire, she was thinking about him when she closed her eyes and waited for the flames to come to her and now, when she was here, still alive, she was still thinking about him.

'I want him to come back this time.' she said within her mind.

It was four in the afternoon, with twenty hours to go.

Harry wouldn't admit it out loud, but for a second, he wanted to leave the fire as it was, wild and uncontrollable. He wanted all of it to burn, the rooms, the gardens, the trees, everything. After all, what was the use of all this when after tomorrow, all he could remember was that Hermione had gotten married, while staying in his resort?

But he didn't dwell on those morbid thoughts. He'd saved Hermione, and that was all that mattered. Now twenty minutes later, when he was going back to check on her, Harry couldn't help but be anxious.

But his worries were unfounded when he found her just where he'd left her, chatting animatedly with Neville.

She was now seated on the chair with her legs folded, a small smile on her lips as she spoke about something. Harry stood on the threshold of the room, just observing her for a while when Neville saw him.

He came to stand in front of Hermione, his face trying its best not to show how worried he'd been. He couldn't smile now, that fake smile he'd been carrying around everywhere had been lost and now he was left vulnerable again.

'Why, Hermione?'

Hermione stayed silent as she peered deeply into his eyes, not finding the strength to reply. Harry didn't know if she knew what he was talking about, because to be honest, she looked kinda drunk. Her eyes were only three-quarters open as she simply looked at him with those brown orbs, as if trying to meet with his soul. Her mouth was closed in a half-pout, as if teasing him, while her forehead adorned a frown as if saying that she was disappointed. Harry decided to voice a new question.

'What the hell happened, Hermione?' It felt as if a spell had been broken when Hermione suddenly averted her eyes, breathing deeply.

'Nothing. Clive was just being stupid.'

Harry tried not to growl angrily, 'He was being stupid?! He could've killed you, Hermione.'

'So what? What do you care?'

Harry looked at her in disbelief. What the fuck was she on about? 'What do I care?' he found himself repeating, his voice turning sharp.

'Yes! Why the fuck would you, huh? You left!'

Harry couldn't find it in himself to be angry anymore because as soon as she'd said that, she burst into tears. She sobbed with her hands covering her eyes, tears running down her cheeks in an uncontrollable stream. Harry knelt before her and tried to pry her hands away from her face.

Hermione resisted his touch but ultimately gave in as she felt the pad of his fingers wiping her cheeks, his touch so gentle and warm and sweet and a thing of the past and so much in direct contrast to her present. A present she now felt she had herself locked herself into, and that too quite knowingly. And why, because she was-

'Why did I leave, Mione?'

Hearing her nickname from his mouth caused her to look into his eyes again and what she saw made her breath hitch. There was that smoldering grief that made her want to crucio herself. There was that pain which reflected how he must be feeling, seeing her get ready for her wedding. And then there was love.

The love that instantly brought a tingling to her spine, a pleasurable shudder running through her body, beginning from her eyes and moving down, making her chest throb with unexpected anticipation. The intensity of those eyes made blood rush to every forbidden corner of her body, that invisible connection resonating at just the right frequency and wanting for more, making her heart sing in abandon. Fuck all propriety, she wanted this. She wanted this now. The revelation, the truth, the point she'd been missing all these years. She couldn't wait anymore. She needed him to say it.

'You need to be happy, Mione.'

Harry suddenly stood up and took a step back from her. Hermione felt like she'd been punched in the gut.

'Harry?'

Neville intervened then, his voice depicting urgency that his two best friends were just stubbornly refusing to admit.

'Don't go, Harry.' Harry did stop at this, his eyes boring into Neville with an intensity that made him gulp, but he continued, 'Can't you see Harry? She'd always been into you. She's always wanted you, Harry.'

The room felt charged with such exquisite magic that it prompted Hermione to get on her feet. Harry didn't know what came over him but his emotions were all over the place and hence his control over his magic was slipping, and he felt he couldn't do anything to stop it. But those words from Neville made him bitter and he began to speak.

'If she has always wanted me,' Harry began, his face scrunching up in barely controlled sadness, his words coming out with so much longing that Hermione felt he had reached his breaking point, 'then why did she say no to me?'

There it was, the truth laid bare before them.

Hermione knew he wouldn't take the first step. So she took it.

Fate had let them both have the same height, and Hermione took advantage of it. She grabbed hold of the collar of his shirt and pulled him to her. Putting one hand on his chest and one on his hips, she leaned into him just as he wrapped her arms around her waist. Her head tipped forward and Harry could sense that she wanted to rest her cheek on his shoulder and he let her. He tightened his hold on her and turned his face down to hers. Their faces were so close together, as if suspended in a little bubble that only consisted of them, breathing each other's breaths in intimacy. Harry felt her sigh, and her scent drifted up to him, soft and sweet and he rested his cheek against her temple and exhaled a breath he didn't know he'd been holding.

'Harry…' she murmured, her voice thick.

Harry found his hands sliding up her back and down as if in a frenzy and then coming to rest just in the crook of her arm. 'What is it?' he gently touched his lips to her earlobe and she sighed.

That's it. He was done pretending. Hermione had her eyes shut tight and her hands gripping his shirt fiercely and he found himself whispering her into her ear again.

'Let me.' His hands closed around her clothed upper arms, rubbing gently and reassuring her that everything will be alright. Harry tipped his head just a little and exhaled, half an inch from her mouth. At the feel of his breath on her face, her eyes opened just for a second before she pressed her lips to his.

The jolt of heat and electricity that passes had them both stunned and all Harry could do was respond by pressing his lips harder against her, wanting to taste more of her.

Nothing existed in this wrong moment except the feel of her in his arms. Their body against each other, their own perfect bubble of rightness. Hermione opened her mouth against his and his tongue found hers, sweeping across, taking it in and wanting more. Releasing her arms, Harry pulled her to him even more, a shudder ran over his face, his arms tightening their hold on her hips, his chest swelling with the love it was receiving, his stomach doing flip flops with eagerness of more to come and making his skin come alive and instigating with a spark, his manhood to life in this long awaited, exquisite moment of closeness with the woman of his dreams.

Harry felt her fingers in his scalp, scraping it, and tugging him closer. His hands wandered lower, cupping her arse, just as she sighed deeply into his mouth. Gasping for air but not really wanting it, Harry moved to her neck, kissing her, sucking her soft, sweet skin, feeling the need to take in all of her, and suck, bite and mark her forever. With his fingers on her arse, Hermione pressed herself into him, thrusting her hips forward to feel more of him, her thighs finally coming to rest against the rock hard evidence of his want for her. Harry knew what she was doing, and now that he was beyond feeling anything but her and only her, he let her know to the fullest extent, how much he wanted to take her now, here.

However, through the fog of their desire came an urgent, piercing voice, breaking their bubble.

'Clive's mom and your mom are looking for you, Hermione. Apparently they have been scolding him all this while and they all want to talk and apologise to you. And to you too Harry.' Ashley said, her face red from exhaustion of finally finding them, or from the embarrassment of their little show, neither Harry nor Hermione knew.

Hermione sighed, once more stepping into the cocoon of his arms. Her breath caused goosebumps on his exposed neck and for once, and knowing what was about to happen now, Harry didn't want to let her go.

'I need to go.'

'I know,' he said into her ear, 'Don't go.'

'I'll come back.' Hermione opened her eyes as she said that, a sparkle in her eyes that made Harry almost do a double take. 'How?' he ended up asking.

Hermione didn't say anything as she disentangled herself from his arms. But her smile said everything to him. He needed just one tiniest bit of confirmation.

'You are afraid, weren't you? That I would turn out like...like _him_?'

Hermione couldn't help but nod a little at the bluntness with which he'd said it. She needed more of it in her life. 'Yes. I was, Harry. I was so afraid that I couldn't breathe. Those days, after you kissed me for the first time, those were the happiest days of my life, but also the ones which instilled a fear in me. If you...us hadn't worked, I don't know what I would've done. I couldn't lose you, Harry. Especially not by rushing into a relationship that I wasn't honestly ready for after that horrid breakup. I'm sorry...I'm so sorry, Harry.'

'I know.' Harry said and leaned forward to kiss her gently on the forehead, his soulful, understanding eyes making her tear up again. 'I know now.'

Hermione gave him a watery smile as she left with Ashley who was waiting just outside the door.

_It was quarter-to-five in the evening, with a little over nineteen hours to go._

* * *

Helen Granger had never been so scared in her life than when the magical inferno had consumed half of Hermione's room and she couldn't do anything but scream in fear and watch helplessly from the confines of her husband's arms. And then when Hermione had come back from wherever she'd disappeared for a half-hour, she didn't let her go from within an arm's distance for a full hour. Not even when Clive's mom came to her and began to apologise profusely for her son's stupidity. Helen Granger could only scowl in anger and think that if that was a simple stupidity on his part, she didn't want to imagine how much more dumb he or in general his kind could get in reality.

'Why hasn't Clive come to apologise himself?' she asked, still angry that the man himself hadn't come.

'He is waiting for Hermione at her new room. He's feeling very guilty. He wants to apologise in private.' explained Elena.

Helen Granger swore to take her daughter aside and ask her again if she was really sure about marrying this man.

But she wasn't given the chance when Hermione had instead suggested that she wanted to take her mind off things and do something else. Elena had come up with a brilliant plan about doing some meet and greet with the distant relatives of both sets of families and Helen had reluctantly agreed.

It was an hour later that Hermione finally got to see her new room. And she was amazed.

The little cottage she'd been allotted was shaped in the form of a mighty tent. It looked like it was made of ice, with widest at the bottom and tapering gradually towards the top till the roof was a simple plateau shaped flat structure, containing a life-sized, beautiful green rose.

Hermione smiled widely as she neared the cottage, her legs making her stall, wanting to stand and stare and marvel at the thoughtfulness of the man who was behind the gesture.

Oh, how she wished she could say that she felt the same now. How alive she felt again, her soul rejuvenated like he wanted to say to her through the green rose atop that tent. And oh, that tent, it held so many good memories. Those moments alone with him in the Forest of Dean had been the beginnings of them exploring the territory of being something more than best friends.

As she finally entered her suite, Hermione knew she was in no way going to spoil her mood by listening to any apology from Clive. Giving him her best stern-eyed, no-nonsense stare, she backed him out of her cottage and closed the door behind him. She'd told him that she was too tired to talk now and it would be better for them if he let her rest for a few hours. When he'd asked her what she meant by that, she'd just scowled at him and let him interpret it the way he wanted to.

Breathing a sigh of relief now, Hermione changed into the most comfortable set of pyjamas she had and threw herself on the bed, looking around the bedroom in which everything was in either blue and pink, her favourite colors. She grinned knowingly.

For the first time in a year, she had a smile on her face as she drifted into sleep.

It was almost six in the afternoon, with eighteen hours to go.

A knock on her door woke her. Getting up from the bed, Hermione opened the door sleepily and was immediately awake when she saw who it was.

'Harry?' she asked, yawning. Apparently grinning and yawning at the same time stretched your smile and your mouth to its limits.

'I want you to come with me, Mione.' No one, absolutely no one could call her this without getting cursed into the next week, apart from him.

His voice was calm but thick, with a hint of mischief in his eyes. This was more than just words, she realised.

'I will handle everything here, Mione. I just want you to come with me.' Her eyes widened as she understood the full meaning behind his words. She looked at the time, it was nine at night.

Hermione knew that this was it. Her chance to have every happiness she'd ever dreamed of in life.

When she didn't reply, Harry implored, 'All it will take is a yes, Hermione. Please say yes.'

She didn't want to think anymore. Fuck everything else, she was here and he was here and that was all that mattered.

'Yes.'

_It was nine at night, with fifteen hours to go. But one thing had changed._

_Hermione had said yes, and she felt free._

* * *

It was somewhere between ten to fifteen minutes of simply walking with their arms around each other that Hermione realised that she was still in her pyjamas.

'No one can see us, Mione.'

She scoffed, 'We are walking in the middle of the resort, Harry.'

'No one can see us, Hermione.' he said gently, 'The only people who can are the ones I allow to. And till now there's no one.'

Hermione looked at him smirking and shook her head, 'Prat. And what will we be doing that will need an audience?'

Harry stopped in his step and pulled her to him, encircling his arms around her hips, his one hand groping her arse firmly while his other hand cupped her cheek. Hermione barely suppressed herself from moaning as she met his lips in a kiss.

'We can do so many things. I want to do so many things to you, Hermione. The question is, do you want them to watch?' he murmured in between the kiss.

Hermione broke the kiss and shoved at his chest, looking at him horrified, 'Harry! My parents are here too!'

Harry laughed, planting a kiss on the top of her nose, 'Don't worry, they are in a different part of the resort. Besides, I wouldn't dream of embarrassing you like that.'

Hermione smiled and nodded a bit shyly. Harry turned sideways and they resumed their walk, his hands around her shoulders. Hermione snuggled into him as much as she could without hindering their walk and leaned her cheek a bit upon his shoulder, her one hand at her side and her other snaked diagonally across his body, coming to rest inside his trouser's back pocket, feeling which he smirked.

Putting his mouth against her ear, Harry asked breathily, 'Like what you feel, Hermione?'

In response, she pinched his arse while keeping her hand still inside the pocket. Harry gasped a little, now pulling his hand just under her hips and running his thumb over her bum over the thin cloth of her pyjama bottoms.

'Minx.' he called to which Hermione grinned, 'It's what you deserve, Harry, for waking me from such a brilliant dream,' she said pinching him again.

Harry gasped dramatically again and felt a sudden tingling warmth spread across his body, due to which he removed his hand from her arse and pulled it upwards to her shoulders. Massaging her shoulder, Harry smiled back before suddenly pulling her shirt a little, and burying his mouth in the bare shoulder it exposed. Hermione could only sigh in appreciation when he began to kiss her sensitive skin in earnest, licking, sucking and occasionally biting with more desire than she'd felt in a year.

Travelling like a slow predator to his prey, his mouth moved to her neck, his tongue licking and sucking across her pulse point and such red hot, smoldering desire swept across her body that Hermione could barely keep her knees from buckling.

But she needn't have worried because in the next moment, she was being carried back in his arms, back to where they had come from.

Wrapping her hands around his neck and pulling him in for a needful kiss, she barely knew when they were inside her bedroom when her eyes detected the familiar bed nearby. Making her stand again, Harry attacked her mouth hungrily, his tongue caressing hers for domination, making her groan into his mouth.

'What were you dreaming about, dear?' he said breaking separating his lips for just a second before putting his mouth on the bare skin of her neck just like the way he'd done before.

Hermione's head was swimming when she heard him speak, her hands roaming on his back all over, her fingers wanting to get rid of the offending shirt soon. With one hand travelling to his hair again, she stepped forward a little, putting herself in between his legs. Still standing but lost in the fog of want for each other, she rubbed herself against him, her mouth generating a smile on realising that he was already nursing an aching hardness. For her. Only for her.

'Something like this, but this is so much better.' she replied, her hands working their way to pull his shirt apart. Breaking their kiss for just a second, which also generated an adorable pout from her, Harry pulled open the buttons on the front in a rush, his now topless body pulled back towards Hermione as soon as the fabric was out of the way. Her hands roamed over his bare chest, and then to his back while she began to kiss him with a renewed fervour.

Hermione squeaked girlishly when her legs suddenly hit the bed, and a little shove from Harry was all she needed to fall on her back onto the mattress. Although clothed, she felt so naked before his eyes which seemed to enjoy taking all of her in as he came to stand in between her legs, spreading them around him in the most erotic way possible.

Harry exhaled through his mouth as he stared at her, his green eyes filled with such potent desire that Hermione felt breathless and woozy from it. He leaned over her form on the bed, her light touches on his bare chest sending shivers down his spine and making her lean back slowly, as if wanting him to make the next move.

Oh, how had she lived without him for a whole year? Now that she thought about it, it was something out of the worst nightmare that she wouldn't ever like to relive.

This time though, it was her turn to gasp as he slowly leaned over her prone form, his unique scent drifting into her nostrils, lighting a fire in her chest, its sparks slowly travelling south to her belly and making her shiver in anticipation. As he kissed her again, this time in a slow, passionate, toe-curling manner, Hermione couldn't do anything but put her arms around his neck again, her legs wrapping themselves around his hips.

He popped open a button and then two of her pyjama top, starting from the top, and when she looked into his eyes again, she saw pure, raw desire for her reflected in it.

'I want to worship you, Hermione.'

Those words erupted fire in her gut, just as he got around to pushing her shirt off her shoulders. She had worn nothing underneath, having just woken out of bed before he'd come knocking. He looked at her breasts, her nipples hard and ready and then into her eyes which reflected so much love and lust for him in equal proportions. His fingers teased her peaks slowly, making her mouth elicit a moan, the first of many to come, he promised himself.

His fingers teased her breasts for what felt like ages, drawing out her desire in waves which were reflected back by how he flicked her nipples one by one between his thumb and finger, making her draw her chest into him, wanting to erase that meagre gap occupied by an inch of air between them.

Her hands wandered to his back again, pulling him to her, the fire in her belly now desperately wanting his mouth on her.

'Every inch of you, Hermione.'

He said before putting his mouth where she had been silently begging him to, over her exposed breasts. Every lick from his delightful tongue sent a new wave of arousal into her, never having felt so wanton, his mouth alternating between her two heated peaks, her eyes taking in his every action that his mouth performed on her. Their eyes locked once more and when he breathed his warm breath on the skin of her aroused peaks, she positively melted.

Every time he sucked, it was like his eyes grew a shade darker and she was lost in those depths, never wanting to be found. His eyes never left hers as he did what he had promised, worshipping every inch of her and making her love him for it.

After a lifetime of worshipping her breasts, he leaned and drew her in for a kiss again, the passion in it doing funny but delightful things to her body.

They broke apart when the need for oxygen became became too much to take, and Hermione felt him silently ask her with his eyes, a slight permission of sorts. She suddenly needed to clarify everything that had been happening between them in words.

'It was only ever you, Harry. Only you.' her voice was husky and soft but it conveyed every emotion she'd wanted to the fullest. 'I was a fool to reject you, Harry. I was such a fool. I'm so sorry I hurt you, I'm so sorry.'

Hermione promptly began to sob with the swell of emotions that threatened to overwhelm her. She found Harry sitting beside her on the bed, and then he was pulling her into his lap with their legs spread in front of them, her legs in between his own and her back against his chest.

'Hush, you. You said yes now, didn't you?'

Hermione nodded her head against his chin, catching his eyes with hers in the full length mirror situated on the other side of the bed.

He curled his arms around her stomach and asked her ever so softly, 'Will you be mine, Hermione?'

'Always.' she replied wholeheartedly, keeping her hands atop his.

She felt his right hand moving down her stomach and sneaking into her pyjama bottoms, and she tightened her hold on his other arm which still held her tight against him.

Sitting against him, she found herself grinding a little into his evident arousal making Harry growl into her ear. 'You little minx.'

Hermione giggled but then had to stifle a moan as his fingers touched the softness of her inner thigh. His fingertips pressed along the seam of her knickers, letting a thrill of desire sweep on her body and she grinded into him, wanting more. He brushed a spot through her utterly drenched knickers that had her bucking into his hand.

'Oh, Harry.'

His left hand found her breasts again as he gently began to knead them while his right hand began to rub her sex deftly over her damp knickers. The feeling that she felt was so sweet, glorious and oh so erotic.

'Will you do me the honour of screaming my name, Hermione?' he asked, continuing to tease her through the thin fabric that separated her sensitive centre from his eager fingers.

Hermione said nothing as she spread her legs to allow more of his hand between her. She wanted more, oh, she wanted so much more of him.

Emboldened by her, Harry pressed harder over the cloth, letting it drag over her slickened folds and then circled back to a spot just above, making her throat draw a loud, heated moan, alongwith his name.

Hermione squirmed delightfully as she breathed against him, 'Under, now,' to which Harry replied, 'As my lady commands.'

And then she felt his hand slipping under her knickers and rubbing along her folds, his fingers expertly slipping between them and making every other thought fly away from her mind.

She tried hard not to thrash against him, to bear still and reap the pleasure of the man of her dreams, working her so exquisitely with his hands. It was when his thumb found that little bundle of nerves that Hermione knew she was on the precipice of falling, hard.

Her legs closed around his hand, as if to lock him there and Harry chuckled shamelessly into her ear. 'Don't be so impatient, love,' to which Hermione growled.

'More.' she replied and he obliged by pushing two of his fingers into her pussy.

Hermione gasped in ecstasy as the first wave of mind numbing pleasure took over her body, making her arch her back and clench delightfully around his still pumping fingers. She said his name over and over as she came, that blissful world of pleasure rocking her body like a puppet on strings.

As she eventually came down to the mortal world, she opened her eyes to see them both in the mirror, and the pure hotness of their state almost made her come again.

Hermione blushed scarlet as she saw him looking at her in the mirror, while he brought his fingers which were covered in her juices, to his mouth and began to lick them gingerly. In response, she grinned and rubbed her arse against the bulge in his pants, making him gasp.

Surprising herself with her own fluidity of movement, she got up to quickly grab her wand from the bedside table and vanish his pants, making him naked as the day he was born before her. Looking into his eyes full of love, she caught his member in her hand and ran her thumb along its skin.

Harry was in a world of his own as she held him, and with a little wandless magic of his own, he divested her of her clothes in a blink. Not wasting a second, she climbed back into his lap, this time facing him and stroked her pussy against his raging cock.

Hermione's eyes held his own, her hands coming up to his cheek as she made the single most important declaration of her entire existence.

'I love you, Harry James Potter.'

Lifting herself with a strength she didn't know she had, her hand reaching beneath to grasp his manhood, she sat back down, taking him fully inside her.

His hands reached across her back and roamed along her warm, bare skin as she took all of him into her, her hands now encircled around his neck. She brought her forehead to rest against his just as he whispered his heart's echoes out loud.

'I love you back, my Hermione.'

Hearing those words from his mouth made her want to grind her hips against him, which she did, his cock touching spots inside of her she didn't know existed. The pressure which was slowly building again in her belly made her lift herself a little just as he thrust back into her, feeling the walls of her pussy grip him harder than ever. This feeling was beyond any she'd ever experienced, this feeling of absolute completeness, of freedom of spirit and liberation of her body, and she knew it from every fibre of her being that it was only him that could complete her. In every bloody way she'll ever want.

Their motions turning wild, her gripped her waist harder as she began to grind and bounce in abandon, her mouth now sucking at his neck while he had his head buried into her wild curls.

Oh, how he loved her hair. It was as wild, untameable and spirited as her. And he also loved the fact that he'd finally succeeded in making her proud of it.

She moaned throatily as she gave her all to the motions, his upward thrusts combined with her downwards slowly driving her wild.

'Five years, Hermione. Five bloody years. I've wanted this for five bloody years.'

Hermione abandoned her favorite spot on his neck as she kissed him again, slowing her hips a bit, 'Now we have it, Harry. And I'm not going anywhere.' she promised.

She rode her second orgasm then, her walls clenching around him, making him yank her head for a needy kiss. 'I want you, Harry.' she breathed against his mouth.

That was all the encouragement he needed as he lost control and gave in to her, his cock pulsing inside of her, filling her up. He moaned into her mouth as he came, their combined moans echoing through the walls of the room along with the creaking of the bed as the hottest thing he'd ever heard.

Hermione buried her head in his neck as her breathing calmed again, but Harry wasn't done yet. She shrieked in laughter as he lifted her off his arms and deposited her on the bed as if she weighed nothing. He stood in front of her on his knees, her legs on either side of him, his eyes taking all of her naked skin in hungrily.

'I hope you're not tired, Hermione. I plan to do this all night.'

She fought not to blush as the boy she'd loved since she was thirteen, looked at her like she was the most delicious assortment of dessert laid before him. She had a vague idea of what he was going to do, but she was still unprepared when he spread her legs and dove, head-first into her thoroughly used, pleasurably aching and pulsing pussy.

Her elbows buckled on the bed as she tried not to simply lay back and enjoy his mouth on her sensitive flesh. It was so wonderful, the sight of him buried in between her legs, that she felt she would come again at the sight.

From being best friends to becoming business partners and then lovers, their journey had been of the most unique kind.

But before her mind could dwell more on that matter, his tongue entered her and all her thoughts were chased away from his delicious intrusion into her core. She opened her eyes and saw herself in the mirror, her nudeness in full, her chest arched upwards with her breasts tingling with the ghost of his tongue as he drank their combined juices from her. His eyes found hers again and the glorious ache in her belly built again this time as she looked at his messy mop of hair buried into her thighs. She couldn't see his face, but she knew he must be nursing a shit eating grin as he ate her out, her hands on his head, wanting to push him deeper into her.

And then his fingers joined his tongue and she screamed his name again, waves of tantalising pleasure wrecking her body from where his tongue was making those sinful circles inside her, making her heart stop and breathing quicken to a frenzy and causing her to fall back on the bed, writhing beneath him as he drank her hungrily, her hair forming a halo around her face.

She was still riding out her latest orgasm when she felt him climb atop her just as he claimed her mouth with his again. She kissed him hungrily then, wanting to taste their combined fluids in entirety and before she knew, he had slipped inside her again.

A throaty moan escaped her mouth as she felt him filling her up just the way she wanted. She could feel his chest on her and their lips as one as he began to thrust into her. She could already feel her orgasm building once more and with each glorious thrust of his cock in her, small fragments of that familiar ache sweeping off into her belly. Fire consumed her from her mouth to her toes as he continued to drive into her with long, slow strokes.

Neither of them felt the need to rush as the soft oneness of their body and soul they now shared brought them no small amount of ecstatic pleasure.

They had made love before, but not like this. This was a certainty they'd never had before. A feeling of complete and absolute promise of giving themselves fully to each other in every way. This was a new thing, but it didn't have the newness of a relationship that most couples had. It had the strong, invincible foundation of years of trust, friendship and love for each other. And that was all that mattered.

_The hands on the clock had moved, but it didn't matter, because they'd found each other again._

_And this time, they were staying, for good._

* * *

The morning had Hermione scrambling from the bed and looking at the clock, she swore.

'Where are off to?' Harry said sleepily from the bed, his naked body in full display, and making her want to mount him again but she resisted, barely.

'To see my mum. Guess I'm not marrying that dumbfuck anyway.'

Harry grinned.

_Fin._

* * *

**A/N: Thank you for reading! Your review = Love. :)**


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